xanatos crash
by Nagia
Summary: (noun) 1 : The result of Jareth wanting to prove he's better for Sarah and her family than her present boyfriend, Sarah wanting to prove the opposite, and Toby wishing they were his parents. 2: That screeching crunch you just heard.
1. Pawn

Sarah flexed her fingers on the wheel, eyes searching the road and the area around it. In weather like this, it was never easy to tell just what other cars were going to do. People seemed to forget how to drive, or didn't bother turning their lights on, or waited until it would blind everyone around them to turn on their emergency flashers.

At least the rain had stopped. The roadside was still basically a swamp — all tall, straight trees and thick brambles shooting up out of gray water — and every so often, water ran along the highway in rippling sheets.

Beside her, John Corlew looked out the window at the passing Virginia countryside. "That downpour seemed like something right out of _Rocky Horror_, huh?"

"Pretty sure it was voodoo," Sarah replied. She kept her tone carefully dry and resolved to have a few words with the Goblin King about interfering with her plans to introduce her latest boyfriend to her family.

So he'd been well-behaved during his little drop in visits for the past few years. So they were basically something like friends. That didn't mean he got to mess around with the weather and affect her relationship.

Whatever she thought of how it was going.

John chuckled agreeably. He was very good at being agreeable. In point of fact, he was the single most tractable, considerate man she'd ever dated. A complete change from what had been her usual type — distant, irritable blonds.

"Didn't the weather report say it would be sunny all week?"

"I even called Dad and he checked the paper. But you know meteorologists."

Sarah changed lanes and slowed down for their exit. After living in New York, she could see why her mother had hated the tiny Virginia town she'd grown up in. Thing was, after living in New York for four years, Sarah had a brand new appreciation for the old brick buildings with their white columns.

It was a town full of clean, white paint. At some points the paved roads turned to cobblestone; at others, the pavement just seemed old, like a bunch of rubble had been ground together until it was flat.

John whistled. "That's your childhood home?"

The driveway seemed insanely long. The lawn was shaded by ancient oak trees. The house itself was a white Victorian affair, two stories and yet seeming somehow huge.

"Home sweet home," Sarah said. She put the car in park and unbuckled her seat belt.

Thunder cracked and the rain started up again. Or, rather, down. It came pouring out of the gray sky in a great, drenching torrent.

Sarah resisted the urge to rest her forehead against her steering wheel.

* * *

Sarah grabbed their bags and slammed the trunk closed. Good thing she'd taken one look at the sky outside and packed Toby's presents away in one of her suitcases.

She led John up the steps and checked the front door. Unlocked. Perfect.

Inside, the foyer hadn't changed much in seven years. Robert and Irene hadn't changed the golden floral print paper or pulled out any of the wood furniture. A few of the knicknacks and vases had been boxed away in the attic, replaced with photographs of Toby and Sarah. They were brief, easily-overlooked and yet still obviously important chronicles of the Williams children growing up.

At some point, either Irene or Robert had replaced the picture of Sarah holding Toby on her hip at her high school graduation with one of her holding Toby's hand at her _college_ graduation. She'd still been wearing cap, gown, and radiant smile in both photographs.

"Dad, Irene, we're here!"

But neither her father nor Irene came pounding down the main stairs. Instead, Toby came in from the garage with a half-soaked Merlin following him.

Sarah had twenty seconds to be surprised at how dark Toby's hair was, how big he'd grown since Christmas, before she had a suddenly-Velcro little brother clinging to her knees.

"Hey, Tobes. Are Dad and Irene in?"

"You're really here just for my birthday?"

"I promised, didn't I?" She ruffled his hair. "Your mom would never have left you all alone. So come on, where is everybody?"

"Mom's fixing up your _boyfriend's_ bedroom. Dad's in the attic looking for something." Toby infused the word 'boyfriend' with all the disdain of romance a soon-to-be-eight year old could muster.

Sarah looked helplessly back at John. But John only smiled sweetly. He stepped forward and bent down slightly to introduce himself.

"You must be Toby. She's told me a lot about you."

Toby looked at Sarah, then told John, "Then she must love me more because she never tells me anything about you."

Sarah felt herself flush bright red, but John only laughed. "She probably does," he said over a few chuckles. "That's how sisters are."

However John felt or didn't feel about being on the receiving end of cutting remarks from an almost-eight year old, Sarah wasn't going to have it.

Fortunately, Irene's voice interrupted. "Sarah?" Irene called down from the upper floor. "Did I hear what I thought I heard?

"You heard what you thought you heard," Sarah replied. She looked up at the second landing. Irene was wearing a chunky necklace with a pink wedge at its center and was looking down on them with a stern expression.

"Toby, be more polite to our guest. And John, please don't hesitate to correct him if he gets that rude again."

"Of course, ma'am," John said.

Sarah didn't snort. John was about as likely to offer correction as he was to don tight pants, pointy boots, and spirit children away to a fairy world.

"Come on up, I've got your rooms ready. Sarah, your father is up in the attic looking for something. I think it's one of your old scrapbooks."

Sarah stifled a laugh at the thought of ever making a scrapbook again. Or touching one of her old ones. She'd taken her time figuring out how to move past her mother's obvious preference of her acting career above her family, but she'd done it.

Irene thought a moment and then said, with a hint of the impish smile Sarah hadn't seen until after her adventure in the Labyrinth, "Actually, it might have been one of our old photo albums. Exercising the right to show your boyfriends embarrassing baby pictures, that sort of thing."

"I can't wait," John called. "Did she fall asleep in her food a lot, Mrs. Williams? Do I get to see cute pictures of baby Sarah trying to eat cake?"

"Call me Irene, and I really wouldn't know. We didn't meet until Sarah was thirteen. Now come on up, I'll show you where you're sleeping."

Sarah and John took the steps up. She looked back to see Toby watching them. He rolled his eyes when John took her hand for a moment.

Eight year olds, she thought.

* * *

Sarah tossed John's bag onto the floor of his room. It was the house's main guest room — though they had one other — and had a large, four poster bed just like every other room. A huge wardrobe dominated one wall; a chest of drawers dominated the other. He was on the side of the house away from the trees, so hopefully no owls would glare balefully at him him all night.

Sarah put thoughts of the Goblin King out of her mind and turned to hug Irene.

Then, knowing what Irene expected, she made the introductions: "Irene, this is John Corlew, the guy with the tripod. John, my stepmother, Irene Williams."

"A pleasure," Irene said, easily reaching forward to shake hands. "Sarah mentioned you were a photographer?"

John laughed again. It was a nice laugh, rich and full-throated. "Yes. I do freelance news photography, mostly for niche magazines. Small market stuff."

"Are you working for any particular magazine at the moment?"

"_Uncharted World_," John said. He scratched the back of his neck. "They're paying very nice money for spooky landscapes and abandoned urban spaces. Things that look haunted or otherworldly."

"No wonder Sarah likes you," Irene said. Her tone was dry. She shot Sarah a look that very clearly said, 'Remember what you were still doing when you were fifteen?'

Sarah felt herself flush again.

Toby, bless him, had an eight year old's priorities. "So you go into haunted houses and take pictures?"

"More like I go into rusty, broken-down factories that look like they might be haunted."

"You've never seen a ghost?"

John thought about that for a minute. "No, I don't think I ever have."

"Can you juggle? Sing? Do magic tricks?"

"Toby!" Sarah couldn't quite keep the exasperated tone out of her voice. "John's my boyfriend, not a circus dog or something."

John just waved a hand and knelt. "I only know the kind of magic you'll have to learn for yourself when you're older. And I definitely don't sing or juggle. Or dance."

Sarah leaned in close to him. "Your cats think you're magic."

John put his arms around her waist (eliciting another ew romance eyeroll from Toby) and said, "Yes, but they don't have opposable thumbs."

* * *

Dinner actually wound up going smoothly. Toby finally stopped with the ridiculous expectations on John. John was charming with Irene and polite, bordering on terrified, with her father. She thought it was a bit ridiculous, really. Her father was about as threatening as a toasted marshmallow, and Sarah had already proven how little real input Robert and Irene Williams had on her life.

But there was no arguing with John. Not because he was stubborn: he just didn't argue. She'd been dating him for a year now and they'd had maybe two confrontations, both of which she'd started. He hadn't raised his voice or even really debated much in either of them. He'd only stood quietly and listened a lot, and then made thoughtful remarks, as if he weren't invested in the confrontation's outcome.

Things didn't actually get weird until after dinner. Irene banned Toby from going to play outside what with the rain, so he took refuge up in his room. Sarah, John, and her parents all lingered downstairs over coffee for a while. Merlin sat by her chair, tail thumping against the ground every so often and a little harder when Sarah reached down to scratch him behind the ears.

God, would Merlin really be nine soon? It was hard to credit.

Her father spared her the horror of the baby photo album, instead showing John some old remodeling projects and quizzing him about photography.

Eventually, Sarah yawned and stretched. "I had like seven hours of driving," she said. "I'm going to head upstairs. Night all."

Her father smiled indulgently.

And Sarah headed upstairs. She passed by Toby's room on the way to her own.

What she heard, she didn't like.

Toby's young voice asked: "But he's not even interesting! Why can't you just make him go away?"

"There are rules," an older man replied.

"Can I wish him away to you?"

"What on or under Earth would I do with a very boring photographer in my Labyrinth? Shall I give him a camera that sucks out souls?"

"At least that'd be kind of cool."

"He'd never use it. He'd point it at people and say, 'Oh, sorry, I suppose you need your soul. Move along,then.'"

Toby's voice turned sly. "You didn't say I couldn't."

"Oh, you can, clever boy. But the Labyrinth would simply spit him right back out for being a tasteless, texture-less, featureless _lump_. Don't bother wishing him away to me; I don't want him."

"Sarah likes him."

Before the Goblin King could answer, Sarah knocked on the thick wooden door. "Toby? Is someone in there with you? Who are you talking to?"

Not that she didn't know damned well who Toby was talking to. But it was probably wise to pretend she hadn't thought about the Goblin King since the last time she'd seen him. And it was definitely wise to pretend she hadn't overheard as much as she had.

"I'm uh, talking to —"

Sarah opened the door and stepped inside. She crossed her arms.

Toby's room looked pretty normal. He had posters of the solar system up on the walls. Books on such disparate subjects as dinosaurs, stage magic, and Grimm's fairy tales littered his nightstand. On one wall he had a poster of a woman in a tuxedo vest and fishnets; on the opposite wall she saw a poster of a stage magician in a tuxedo. In his top hat was the bloody carcass of a rabbit. Dozens of dead rabbits lay at his feet.

Sarah wondered how and why Irene had allowed such a horrifying image into her son's bedroom.

"That's Giovanni Zatara from _The Books Of Magic_," Toby said. "It's a special poster. Mom and Dad can't see it."

"Did the Goblin King give it to you?"

Toby shrugged.

Sarah turned to look at the Goblin King. He looked much the same as he ever had, though he'd toned down on the glitter a bit. Probably to keep up with Toby's terminal inability to be impressed.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Featureless lump, Goblin King?"

"Do you deny that he's milk-mild and very bland?"

"I'm not interested in contesting with an ego the size of Texas or walking my significant others through enough baggage and issues for an airport."

The Goblin King's mouth curled into a thin, sharp smile. "That isn't a denial, precious thing."

It wasn't a denial, Sarah realized. And yeah, John was a little boring. But that wasn't a _bad_ thing, was it? He was affectionate, considerate, had an eye for the spooky, and they got along. He was proficient in bed — not particularly imaginative or passionate, but he got her off pretty consistently.

The sharp smile turned into a smirk. Almost as if the Goblin King knew what she'd been thinking.

"Go _home_, Jareth," Sarah sighed. "I draw the line at talking about wishing people away."

"Sarah," the Goblin King murmured. He said her name as if it hurt him, but his mouth caressed the shape of the word as if it were precious regardless. "Sarah, Sarah."

"What?"

"In this place, at this time, the line is not yours to draw. This is no longer your home. _You have no power over me._"

Well, shit. Sarah rocked back, suddenly wondering if he'd hated those words as much as she hated hearing them right now.

"Toby, send him away for the rest of the night."

"But —"

"He can come back tomorrow, but for tonight he's done. And don't you dare wish John away to the goblins."

Toby gave her a long, searching look. It combined well with his puppy-dog eyes. But when Sarah didn't uncross her arms or soften her expression, the boy sighed and turned to the Goblin King.

"I guess you'd better go now."

Jareth gave Sarah an equally searching look. His eyes seemed intent on her, making his gaze seem heated. Sarah could feel herself turn pink under the dry, scorching scrutiny, but she stood her ground.

The Goblin King bowed and vanished.

* * *

There was a barn owl lingering on the tree outside her window. Sarah closed her curtains to change into her pajamas. She flung the curtains back open the minute she was done, though. After a moment's hesitation, she opened her window and leaned out.

The owl shifted restlessly on its branch.

Sarah continued to ignore it, swinging onto the window ledge, then wedging her foot on the trellis right next to her window. She climbed it up just as she had when she'd been fifteen and feeling particularly dramatic. The trellis and ivy were damp and rain slick, but she made her way unerringly to the roof.

The moon was almost full. She leaned back on the slippery shingles and stared up at it.

The owl flapped onto the roof. It hopped awkwardly toward her, until at last she had an abnormally large barn owl sitting next to her on the roof of her father's house.

After a moment, the Goblin King said, "Toby is right. He's boring. You deserve better. He certainly isn't worthy of you."

"People aren't objects or achievements. We're all worth too much for any one person to be 'worthy' or 'deserving' of us."

"Learned that in your very fascinating Women's Studies class?"

That old argument again. Jareth hadn't understood the concept of Women's Studies at first. It wasn't like she needed advice on being female, he'd said. She did that admirably on her own.

Sarah ignored the flush that spread across her cheeks at the remembered conversation.

"Extrapolated on the fact that my brother is an individual with hopes, dreams, potential, and the right to determine his own fate. Not an inconvenience for me to wish away."

The Goblin King's mouth curved into a smile for a moment. "You've gotten better at matching wits, at least."

She felt a frisson of satisfaction at getting a genuine compliment out of him that didn't involve the words 'for a mortal.' "Seven years will do that."

"Toby says you studied the science of politics?"

"Political science, yeah." Sarah found herself slanting a lopsided smile at the Goblin King. He was sure to appreciate this one. "It's basically a study of power. How political power works, and who it goes to. That sort of thing. I mostly studied public administration."

"Sounds dry as dust." He flicked his gaze up to the sky.

Sarah bit back a nasty remark. She'd expected him to be interested. It stung as much as all the times John just didn't seem to care enough to argue.

She tried to explain.

"Well, it wasn't for me. I did a lot of courses in public relations and media management. I've got a few offers to help run some really important political campaigns."

Jareth looked at her quizzically for a moment. Despite his apparent lack of interest in a topic she'd found fascinating enough to spend four years studying, his lopsided eyes gleamed. He was evaluating, gearing up to score a point in their friendly debate.

She'd wondered sometimes if their debates were something more than friendly. Were they trying to get to know each other for some other purpose, or just for amusement? Was he still in love with her?

"At last, I see where you and John fit together: mortal ambition. The desire to earn more and wield more power in your respective fields."

"You say that like you disapprove of ambition."

"Ambition is natural. All things strive. But you could reach so much higher than these mortal aspirations you speak of."

"I'm mortal." She sighed.

Jareth turned to face her. The pupil of his right eye was wide. Either his magic or weird fae physiology made his eyes seem to shine a bit like a cat's (or an owl's) as he stared at her. His gaze on her was intent again, intense and warm.

He leaned in toward her.

Her breath caught. She didn't lean away.

And, down below, back in the room she'd just climbed out of, somebody knocked on her door. When she didn't answer, they knocked again, and then she heard the door creak open. It closed and locked with a soft click.

"Sarah?" John whispered.

Jareth launched himself off the roof. Feathers drifted on the wind. A barn owl soared away. His wings beat the air hard; he could have been flying to the moon, or the distant mountains, or another world entirely. She spent a moment imagining that other world, imagining what it would be like to become a bird just by thinking about it.

Then she climbed back down into her room and tried to ignore the sweet ache that suffused her bones.

"God, you're soaked through. And freezing." John rubbed his hands along her shoulders. After a long moment of hesitation, he murmured, "Let's get you out of those clothes and into something warm."

Jareth would have made that offer imply wonderful, filthy promises. But John just sounded… nice.

She shucked her shirt and kissed him. John smiled against her lips.

* * *

Sarah woke at three in the morning to find the owl back outside her window, and John snoring lightly next to her. The owl gave her a baleful look. She stuck her tongue out at it, food for a conversation with Jareth later, and sent John back to the guest room. Her parents didn't check on her in the night anymore, but it was probably a good idea to at least _pretend_ nobody had spent the night in anybody else's room.

He took one of her pillows with him, sleep mussed and gray eyes fever-bright in the darkness.

Sarah thought about going back to bed. But like hell was she going to let the Goblin King get away with glaring at her when she should have been in post-coital bliss. Watching was creepy, and the resentful look wasn't much better.

She climbed out of her window and made her way to the owl's branch. The owl didn't move. It just kept staring at her bedroom. So she reached out to poke it. It snapped at her.

Not actually the Goblin King, then.

She sighed, climbed back into her room, and slammed the window shut. She pulled the curtains closed, just for good measure, and tossed and turned until seven, when the sun rose and Toby came bounding into her room.

"Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! It's my birthday!"

"Happy birthday," she groaned. Then she rolled over and pulled the pillows back over her head.

Four minutes later, she pulled her pajama pants back on and put on an actual tee shirt, then headed downstairs. She found Toby bounding around the ground floor excitedly, while John tried simultaneously to keep Toby under control and squeeze orange juice for the family breakfast.

He wasn't having any luck. And from the way Toby reacted every time John opened his mouth, he wouldn't have any better luck if he wasn't attached to a juicer. Quite frankly, Sarah doubted John could have intimidated or occupied Toby if he'd wielded an electric carving knife and a _really_ scary look.

Family breakfast was nice. John was nice to her parents, and he cleared the table and did the dishes. She helped him while Toby ran around outside.

"When's the party again?" John watched Toby through the kitchen window. An amused, indulgent smile lingered on his lips.

He didn't look at all like he'd been rousted out of his girlfriend's bed at three AM. In fact, he looked perfectly presentable, and not like he'd been having very gentle, very methodical — no, _thorough_ sex with his girlfriend the night before.

"Four," Sarah replied. "I think I need some coffee."

She grabbed her mug, rinsed it out, and poured more coffee into it. She added sugar and a dollop of chocolate syrup. Her parents were kind enough to leave it by the coffee pot when she was home.

"Do you usually sit on the roof right after it's been raining? Isn't that dangerous?"

Sarah thought about the desperate dash away from the Cleaners, begging and praying for a door to open so she wouldn't be cut to ribbons.

"It's not a thirty-foot fall," she replied. "I might break a few bones, but —"

John shut off the tap with a jerk. His voice, when he spoke, was flat. "Break a few bones."

"Well, yeah, I mean, it's fifteen or twenty feet. I definitely wouldn't just be able to walk it off."

"So you know that you could get very badly hurt," he said, voice very quiet, "but you do it anyway."

"I've been doing it since I was a kid. I've never fallen, not even on foggy or windy nights. I'll be perfectly safe."

For once, John looked like he wanted to say something. He even opened his mouth to argue. Sarah waited, almost hoping he would. Her rooftop habits weren't actually up for debate, but a debate about anything from him would have been nice.

Then he sighed and said, "Well, I have no right to stop you. But I wish you wouldn't climb on the roof."

"Sorry," she said in a cheerful tone. "But, you know, if wishes were fishes." Her smile felt stretched.

"Sarah, there's balloons and stuff in the park. Do you think Jareth did it?!" Toby was barreling in from the garage when he spoke. "Ooh, are you guys arguing? Lemme guess, he started it and you're finishing it."

"Just a conversation, Toby," John said. His tone was calm, even a little bright, but his eyes never left Sarah. Either he was pissed that she wasn't going to give up the roof thing, or he was finally pissed at the way Toby talked about him.

Sarah saw John's mouth twist into a frown. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Toby's just insecure. He's used to being my number one priority."

John tilted his head to kiss her on the mouth, then he stepped back and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You mind if I take the car into town?"

"Take it with my blessing," she said. "I won't even torture you and ask you to be back by four."

"I wouldn't dream of missing Toby's party."

She watched him go, and couldn't help the feeling of disquiet that John hadn't asked who the hell Jareth was and why he would set up balloons in the park.

* * *

John didn't come back for the party. At first Sarah worried he'd gotten lost. Then she worried there might be more water on the roads.

Then she worried Toby had wished for something stupid or awful. So she headed up to her room, closed and locked the door, and said, "Jareth?"

"I'm here, precious." His voice came from a few paces behind her. She turned. He was leaning against the far wall, for once in something like normal clothing. Actually, to be fair, he'd dropped the fairy tale glam rocker look for straight up grunge.

Sarah refused to let herself be distracted. "Jareth, where's John?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Am I your lover's keeper?"

"Has Toby made some sort of stupid wish, or —"

Jareth strode toward her. He reached out, grabbing her hands. The touch was electric. Sarah drew in a breath.

"Toby has not wished him away to me, nor made any wish regarding your present lover. I have not seen him. I thought we left that false villain-heroine dichotomy behind four years ago."

"Then where could he possibly —"

Sarah cut off. Jareth opened his mouth, probably gathering steam to point out that the mantle of protection he'd offered her family didn't extend to her boyfriends.

They were saved by Irene's call of, "Sarah! It's time to cut the cake!"

So Sarah went downstairs. Jareth followed her. She stopped to ask him what the hell he was doing, but her father clapped Jareth on the shoulder.

"Good to see you, Jay," he said. "How'd you make it? I heard the road to this part of town got flooded. Sarah, John's stuck out there. I'd say we should stage a rescue, but I think we'd need a boat."

"Poor chap," Jareth said. He sounded only mildly sympathetic. "I guess I must have managed to make it in before the roads closed."

"You've got some luck," her father said, shaking his head. "Alright, I'd better get downstairs and distract the ravening horde. A history of unsettling birthday wishes, large amounts of sugar, and twelve eight-year-old boys are not a good combination."

With that he passed them on the stairs and headed down toward the dining room.

"Birthday wish?" Jareth looked to her. He raised an eyebrow.

The gleam in his eye gave her the impression of an excited child. As if he were asking permission to do something that genuinely excited him.

Sarah sighed. "If you want to go granting wishes, just… promise me one thing."

"Only one? Name it, and I will consider."

"He's eight years old today. No price tags, no classic faerie careful-what-you-wish-for literal genie consequences."

Jareth's face shuttered closed. "I'm not without mercy, Sarah."

"No, you're not," she admitted. "But you're a trickster archetype if I've ever met one. Please, promise me?"

Jareth bowed without breaking eye contact. "You have my word: I will interpret all wishes in the most lenient manner possible and will constrain all consequences to their mildest possibilities."

She sighed in relief.

* * *

"Happy birthday dear Toby," eleven eight year olds, her parents, and Sarah sang. She didn't hear Jareth's voice, but he was clearly out of his depth as far as mortal birthday customs went. "Happy birthday to you~"

"Alright, blow out your candles and make a wish," Irene said. She was smiling. She had a cake shaped like a top hat in her hands.

Toby thought for a moment, then murmured, "I wish Sarah and Jareth were my mom and dad."

He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks —

* * *

Eight candles glittered on a cake shaped like a top hat. Eleven boys, Dad, Irene, and Sarah were all gathered around.

Even Jareth joined in.

"Happy _birthday_ dear Toby~ happy birthday to you~"

Irene smiled. "Alright, blow out your candles and make a wish!"

Toby was silent for a moment. He looked down at his candles, then whispered, "I wish Jareth and Sarah could be my parents."

He puffed up his cheeks and blew. One of the candles winked, flickered, and —

* * *

"Blow out your candles and make a wish!"

Toby turned to look at Jareth and Sarah. Sarah blinked to realize that Jareth was standing near her. So near she could feel his body heat. When had he moved to be next to her?

"I wish Jareth and Sarah —"

The flickering candlelight froze.

And then resumed.

"—were my parents."

Toby puffed his cheeks. The candles guttered out. The world went dark.


	2. King

A couple of the boys let out shrill noises of fear. Outside, thunder crashed. For a moment she could have sworn the house rocked in response, windows rattling at the force of the thunder's voice. It was a long, wordless roar that made her skin prickle with the promise of something different, something impossible.

Beside and a little behind her, Jareth placed his hand at the crook of her elbow. His touch was warm against her skin. He seemed almost fever-warm.

The interior lights came back on. In the kitchen, something beeped its displeasure at being inappropriately powered down. And twelve young faces all stared a large cake shaped like a top hat.

Irene stepped forward and plucked out the candles. Little blobs of wax stuck to the cake, but none of the boys seemed to notice as Irene cut the cake into slices for all present. Toby got the first piece, of course.

She cut an extra piece and set it aside on a plate. "For John," she told Sarah.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

The boys all dug into their cake. Presents would be next, and then hoping and praying the road opened up again so they wouldn't be stuck with twelve eight-year-old boys in their house overnight.

Toby turned to watch Jareth. His expression was at once evaluating and disgruntled.

"Somebody's been spoiling him," Sarah murmured under her breath to Jareth. "And it wasn't me. By the way, did you re-order time to try and avoid that wish?"

"Several times. At one point I pushed Toby and myself forward in time while I — oh, none of that will make sense to linear creatures. I even froze time for you and everyone else so we could have a conversation."

"I take it we're stuck with that wish. Are you granting it?"

Jareth took several bites of cake before he sighed,. "Would you believe I had to completely alter the course of the next thirteen months?"

"Can you do that?"

"I can erase all records that people existed. Inserting an event that rewrites a year is actually much simpler." Jareth went back to his cake, devouring it as if he were ravenous. Hell, maybe he was. Maybe messing around with time made a fae hungry, though it was hard to believe.

It was hard to tear her thoughts away from his lips.

Sarah paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What's about to happen? Wait... you promised to be lenient! Jareth, how could you?!"

Could she make a counter wish? Or would she have to kill him to get him not to re-write reality? No, he'd already re-written it —

"Don't fret so," he snapped. "I keep my promises, Sarah. Your parents will be safe. Simply... irresistibly and suddenly called to the wilds of Maine or Canada for Robin's work and delayed indefinitely once they're there."

"Robert's work," she corrected, automatically. "And I'll be stuck watching Toby because it's such short notice." It was better than what she'd been thinking. She couldn't stop the sigh of relief.

Until she realized just what the rest meant.

"You have got to be kidding me." She'd have groaned, but she didn't want to draw the attention of the partygoers or her parents. "I've got the start of a career in New York, and I'm going to have to put it on hold so I can play parent with you?"

Jareth spread his hands. "In promising to be lenient granting Toby's birthday wish, I promised to grant it. You know what I am. You know what a promise means."

Of course. Fae hated to be pinned down with their words, but once they made a promise… Well, spending a year as a surrogate parent to an eight year old would be far, far more pleasant than breaking it.

How wonderful for her, she thought. "Is there any way I can convince him to change his wish?"

"I tried three times and only managed to haggle him down to _loco parentis_ for a year. And that took saying that rewriting reality would erase his parents and make you a teen mother. I don't think he'll settle for less, at this point."

Fan. Fucking. Tastic. Sarah sighed and went back to her cake. If this was going to be her last night of wild, not-responsible-for-anyone-else, uncontrolled youth for the next year, she was going to enjoy that cake. In fact, she would enjoy two slices of cake. And ice cream with chocolate syrup.

* * *

The kids devoured the cake, Toby opened presents, the kids ran wild while her father and Irene placed calls to parents who hadn't expected their children to suddenly be inaccessible.

Slowly, the roads cleared up. The television was out, even if they had power, so Irene and Sarah listened to the radio for weather and traffic. Eventually, headlights creeped up their long, long driveway.

Not John. But they did get rid of six of the eleven other boys within a couple of hours. By eight o'clock, they'd gotten rid of all but two other boys.

Sarah and Irene took refuge from the over-sugared kids on the porch. She didn't feel the least bit guilty about saddling Jareth with three unruly children; not only was he actually great with kids, he seemed to enjoy the challenge of keeping them occupied and out from under her parents's feet.

Okay. Maybe she should go in and join him. Hell, she _wanted_ to go in and join him, for reasons she didn't really want to look at too closely. She tried pretend it was only to see how he worked his magic on unruly under-tens — even if she knew that wasn't why.

But a good girlfriend would wait anxiously for her poor, harried boyfriend to make his way back to her parents's house.

After twenty minutes, Jareth appeared at the door, flanked by two rambunctious boys and Toby, who still seemed a little withdrawn.

"I see the two of you have abandoned me," he drawled. "Left me to be devoured by these frightful little cannibals."

Irene laughed. It was a warm, pleasant sound. Sarah was a little surprised to realize just how much easier Irene was to like since she had let go of all her childish desires for her mother to return to her.

"We'd apologize, Jay, but Sarah and I are exhausted and you have a way with children."

"You're practically the pied piper," Sarah added. She watched Jareth's eyes warm in amusement at the fairy tale child-stealer reference.

He stepped closer, rested a hand on her shoulder. Once again his palm felt startlingly warm. "Well, there's coffee in the kitchen, should you wish it. Any sign of anyone else braving the weather?"

"No sign yet," Sarah sighed. She let one hand fall on top of his for a moment.

Irene shifted her gaze from the children (two of whom were anxiously watching the road from the doorway) to Sarah and Jareth.

Sarah gripped his wrist and pulled his hand off her shoulder.

Irene said nothing about it until Jareth and the kids went back inside. And what she asked wasn't _What are you doing flirting with Jay?_ but a question Sarah found much more unsettling: "Are you happy with John?"

Sarah hesitated.

"You two certainly do seem comfortable with each other."

"You know, what we have _is_ comfortable. I just... that's supposed to be enough, right?"

"I was talking about you and Jay, but that's an interesting discussion you're starting up."

"Like, I get that the dizzy infatuation stage doesn't last forever. But is it supposed to just be easy? You're together because you haven't had any major fights, so why end it, even if you're not sure you understand each other?"

"That's something we all have to decide for ourselves. I'm not sure there's any 'supposed to' when it comes to spending your time with others."

"I just keep thinking that there should be something more," Sarah said, quietly. "But I'm not _un_happy, either."

"You've been with him a year. It's longer than you lasted with anyone else." Irene eyed her. "What are you really looking for in your life, Sarah?"

"I don't know. Something exciting. Something that makes it all feel worth it."

Something worth coming back from the Labyrinth for, she couldn't say. Oh, Toby having a shot at life Aboveground was priceless — but she had no doubt Jareth would have let her trade herself for the baby.

She'd been so fixated on beating him that she hadn't thought about what he was really offering. Now, as time passed, she found herself mulling it over more and more. Like the words had been some kind of time bomb, sitting quietly in her head until she'd become dissatisfied with the world she'd chosen.

And then they'd unfurled slowly in her head, spreading invisible wings to take up more and more room in her thoughts. The possibilities were an ache in her shoulderblades that spread straight through to her heart and sometimes pounded in her temples.

Irene only looked at her thoughtfully, with a kind smile. "You always were a little wild. You know, Robert had to nail that trellis down four or five times before you were even seventeen?"'

"You knew I climbed up it?"

The smile faded. "Robert and I always thought you were climbing down to meet that ridiculous drama club of yours. And you were using that damn thing to get to the roof?"

"I still do," she laughed.

"Good gracious." Irene sighed. "I'd say 'please don't,' but I know you."

Sarah flashed her a smile, feeling at least a little repentant. "I think I'll go inside for that coffee now."

When she returned with two cups — one for her, complete with chocolate, and one for Irene, with a dash of ground cinnamon added on a whim — she found Jareth sitting in the porch swing. One of the boys, Eddie, lay with his head pillowed on Jareth's shoulder.

Sarah reached out to offer the mug she'd intended for Irene. Jareth accepted it, sniffed, and took a sip.

"That's even worse than it usually tastes," he said.

"Sorry, it's decaf; I expected Irene. Where'd she go?"

"Toby's bedtime. This one begged to stay up a little longer to wait for his parents." He paused. "Nobody expects them to show up tonight, so he'll be sleeping in Toby's room with the other two, and I apparently have run of the second guest bedroom. Your parents are kind hosts."

Sarah settled into the swing, at the far end. Far enough away from Jareth and Eddie to be appropriate.

"Sarah, if I... apologized for what will happen tomorrow, will you forgive me?" He said the word 'apologized' like it tasted sour.

It probably did. Jareth had his pride.

Sarah sighed. She knew he hadn't had much choice. If she'd left him alone, he probably would have declined to grant the wish, or simply given Toby a dream of what it might be like. But still, the principle of the thing was very nearly infuriating.

"I don't know," she said.

Jareth shifted, as if uncomfortable or unhappy. She turned to look at him. His expression said that he was no happier with the situation than she was. Probably about being tied away from the Goblin Kingdom for most of a year — hopefully they'd be able to reach a compromise on that.

And she always had her other major to fall back on. She could get a job here in town for a while, keep as abreast of the news as she could, and see where next year took her.

So she smiled. "I take it you're about as upset as I am?"

"The idea has its advantages," he replied. "But they're very few."

"Would it help if I said I was madder at Toby than I am at you? _Not_ that I'm happy about any of this."

"It might."

"Then I'm madder at Toby for this than I am at you." After a pause, she added, very quietly, "I'm glad you're here. Even if I totally blame you for this storm and John getting stuck in town."

Jareth smiled. For once, it wasn't the sharp, predatory smile she'd come to know and expect. Oh, there was an edge to it, of course. Jareth's very personality was sharp enough to cut herself on and always would be. But mostly the smile was surprisingly sweet. Appreciative.

She'd made him genuinely happy. And even just knowing that made her feel warm, light, like she could be —

Gravel crunched. She looked out at the road.

A final pair of lights made their slow crawl up the driveway. She watched them round the bend and move up past the tree, pulling slowly to a stop just a dozen or so yards away from the porch.

She set the coffee aside and stood. "Hello?"

A car door banged shut. "Sarah? Oh, good, I haven't gone sailing up the driveway to the wrong house entirely."

Wind roared through the tree's branches. The dark sky seemed to roil and seethe; dark clouds must have been moving around up there.

Rain whipped down again. By the time John reached the porch, his clothes, which had probably been damp to begin with, were drenched. Water plastered his hair to his skin and turned it black.

Sarah reached out to tug him into the relative shelter of the porch. The rain didn't follow. It was just possible, she thought, that Jareth hadn't done that.

"God, you're soaked through and freezing. Let's get you out of those clothes and into something warm." She was teasing, but her words felt a little thin, a little forced.

John didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, do speak more carefully in front of impressionable young ears." She could practically hear Jareth's eyes rolling.

John looked to see Jareth with Eddie still slumped against him. Jareth lifted his mug of coffee.

"John, this is Jareth," Sarah paused, trying to remember the name Jareth had given her parents a few years ago. "Regis. A family friend."

"Call me Jay. Everyone else does," Jareth said.

"Nice to meet you. I'm John Corlew." John smiled pleasantly, but he looked trapped.

So she tugged him inside, casting a look at Jareth on the porch as she went. She hoped John didn't see.

* * *

John made his way to the bathroom. He looked up and down the hall, then tugged her wrist as he stepped inside, closing the door and locking it behind them.

He pressed her against the door and lowered his head to kiss her. His lips were cold, his skin clammy, but he wound his damp fingers in her hair. She tilted her head to one side, standing on the tips of her toes, and kissed him back.

After a few moments, he broke the kiss and whispered, voice ragged, "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you today?"

And Sarah realized that she hadn't missed him. She'd been worried, but it had been a pitying worry. And then the frantic fear that he'd been wished away, which nobody deserved.

But never once had she wanted his arm slung around her waist, wanted him to see the way Toby's eyes brightened, wanted him beside her on the couch while she scritched Merlin's head with her toes.

"Sarah?" John's gray eyes bored into her, searching. He was looking for something in her face, and not finding it. Or maybe he was seeing something new, something that worried him. "What's wrong?"

"Just worn out," she said. And, hazy in front of her, unfurling like wings, spreading out like a stain, was a choice: she could say 'But kiss me again anyway,' and he would. They'd make it to the shower, she'd turn on the hot water and wrap her legs around him, and he would say _Sarahsarahsarahsarah_ the way he used to say _ohgodohgodohgodohgod_ and they'd knock the shower rack over.

But she didn't have to.

And she didn't really want to.

So she smiled and kissed his cheek. "Sorry, but I should get some sleep. Go ahead and get warmed up. Irene saved you some cake."

"You're going to bed?"

"Yeah. We had twelve eight-year-old boys, so we all really had our hands full. Tell me your horror story over coffee in the morning?"

"Sure." He looked startled and a little lost. "Love you."

The urge to say 'Love you too' was automatic. But she didn't, only smiled and left the bathroom.

She began making her way back to her room. She was halfway there when she saw Jareth at the top of the stairs. He had Eddie in his arms.

"Finally give up on his parents getting here?"

"Tomorrow will be windy," Jareth said, "but otherwise sunny. They'll doubtless arrive before noon. For now, he ought to sleep in an actual bed."

She couldn't help the smile. Not that she'd tried very hard. But she could tell from the way her face felt — eyes warm, mouth stretched — that her smile was watery and thin.

Jareth's gaze sharpened on her. "Walk with me," he said.

They were silent as he carried Eddie into Toby's room and gently laid him on the pallet made up for a third child. Jareth tucked him in with quick, efficient movements.

For a moment, Sarah re-evaluated her dismay at being forced into a parenting role alongside him. She wasn't keen on standing in _loco parentis_, but Jareth probably wouldn't be so terrible at it. He was good with kids, was used to dealing with insane and often self-destructive whims, and had a few hundred years of perspective.

It didn't truly make her any happier with the whole situation.

Once they were safely out of Toby's room and Jareth had silently shut the door, he headed back down to the kitchen. Strangely enough, he walked. Sarah made a mental note to ask about that.

Once they reached the kitchen, she took the initiative and put the kettle on the stove. In deference to the fact that it was ten thirty at night and the rest of the house was asleep, she pulled the cap. She'd know it was boiling by the steam that poured out.

After a few minutes — during which Jareth leaned against the counter, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes closed — Sarah poured the hot water into two mugs. She tossed a chamomile teabag into her own mug, then scooped leaves into an infuser for Jareth. He was picky about his tea.

"Here. I assume 'walk with me' was asking me to talk to you about something?"

"It was," Jareth agreed, accepting the tea. He drank it without cream or sugar and closed his eyes as he sipped. His lashes curved dark against his parchment-pale skin. For a moment, with his unruly hair and carpenter jeans, he looked simply human.

He set the ,mug down on the counter for a moment. "So tell me what had you so troubled on the stair."

Sarah sighed. Of course he would ask that.

And of course she would have no idea how to answer. So she didn't say anything at all. She just drank her tea in silence.

"Very well," Jareth said. She could hear a faint edge in his tone, but she wasn't sure if that was just Jareth being Jareth or if he was upset.

He emptied his tea into the drain and set his mug in the sink.

She said nothing. What was she supposed to say, that she'd spent a year of her life in a relationship that was adequate but not fulfilling? And that she didn't think that was wasted? That the relationship was going to end soon but it hadn't been a failure?

Would he even understand any of that?

Sarah finished her tea and let Jareth go.

* * *

She woke to sunlight streaming in through the windows, dappled in green by treeleaves and thinned by her gauzy curtains. She rolled onto her stomach, then did a quick stretch.

And then she was up. She shrugged into a flannel button-down over her tank top and wiggled her way into some jeans.

She thought about buttoning the flannel on her way downstairs but decided against it.

People were moving around in the dining room, but there were voices in the kitchen, so Sarah swung that way. She paused before opening the door.

"—hate to ask it of her," Irene's voice said. "She just got those offers in New York and if she walks away it could be a year or more before she gets any others."

"I just don't like the idea of you being alone in the house. It's only been a month; you can't drive yet. And if something happens..." A pause, then her father said, in a warmer tone, "I'd just feel better if she were here. It'll keep me from worrying."

Someone sighed. "Fine, let's ask her after lunch. Go feed the horde and I'll wake Sarah."

Sarah pushed the door open and smiled brightly. "Something I can help with?"

Her parents's faces froze before Irene smiled. "Actually, you can carry those pancakes into the dining room. John and Jay have the kids corralled in there."

"Sure thing," Sarah said, reaching out to take the platter her father was holding. "How long do you need me to stay in town?"

Her father looked to Irene. Irene looked to her father.

"Yes, I heard. I don't mind helping out. I just need to know how long."

"It shouldn't be more than a week," her father told her. "I'm catching the last flight out to Vancouver tonight. I'll be back next Monday."

"That's completely fine. Is there any coffee left?"

Her father cast a rueful look at the carafe. "Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like John, Jay, and I went right through it. I'll brew another."

"Thanks, Dad." She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Well, at least Jareth's little reality re-write worked fast.

* * *

Breakfast happened. She put food in front of the kids. The kids ate. The adults ate. Sarah ate, virtually ignoring the pancakes in favor of the sausage and bacon. She hadn't had red meat since Christmas.

And all the while, she sat next to John, wondering. Was it best to just end things now, or let them fizzle out naturally when it eventually (somehow) became clear that she wasn't going back to New York any time soon?

Eddie's parents showed up just after breakfast. The last boy's parents showed up around noon.

And Toby, who had been buzzing with some sort of secret or insane request all day, finally burst: "So do I get a birthday movie? Sarah always did! And you promised last year when you didn't let me see Batman!"

Sarah laughed. "He's got you on that one, Dad."

"I know," her father grumbled. "Alright, son. Go look in the paper and find one you want to see."

Toby raced off to find the newspaper. Jareth gave the room a cutting smile, watching with half-lidded eyes. John just looked confused.

"Birthday movie?"

"Dad usually takes me to a movie on my birthday," Sarah replied. "Hey, actually, I needed to talk to you. Walk with me to the park?"

They'd only made it as far as the end of the driveway before John asked, "You know, I've got this feeling you're going to suggest we see other people."

Sarah blinked. "What?"

"I don't know, I've just been... dreading it since I woke up this morning."

Jareth. She was going to wring his pencil fae neck. Sarah took in a deep breath and forced herself to unclench her fists.

"Actually, I was going to say my family needs me to stay in town another week. I get that you have to head back to the city, so I was going to suggest we get you a plane ticket first thing tomorrow."

John stared at her. "They need you to stay a week?"

"Dad's booked a red-eye for Vancouver sometime tonight. It's a work thing. Apparently they need him in their office their by tomorrow."

"But why do they need—"

"Irene has epilepsy. It's mostly controlled, but she had an incident a month ago. Which means I'd be handy to have around. There's a chance of another seizure right now."

And just because Toby knew how to call the police and make sure Irene didn't hurt herself didn't mean he should have to do it alone, never mind at _all_.

"I see," John said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "And she just can't be alone for a week?"

"Dad worries. And I mean... I'm free of dead end job number five thousand, and I'm still weighing my options. So it's really not a problem for me. I'm happy to help."

John didn't say anything for a moment. And then he said, "You wouldn't be you if your family didn't come first. I wish I could stay a day longer."

"I know," she said, and knew that a better girlfriend would have said, 'Me too.'

She kicked a piece of gravel onto the drying road and sighed. "John, do you want to see other people?"

He was quiet for a very, very long time. The silence stretched between them. After a while, it seemed to take on weight, just barreling down on them, pressing down and making sure neither spoke.

Eventually, John said, "Sometimes I feel like I'm trying too hard to keep us together."

Sarah laughed bitterly at that. "Really? Because I'm always afraid that you don't care."

That drew a chuckle out of him. "And I'm always afraid you're going to leave me for someone better and more interesting."

Sarah said nothing. She couldn't promise him that.

John was quiet another moment before asking, in a thoughtful tone, "Sarah, do you love me? The way you used to?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. 'I'm not sure I ever loved you the way you think I did' was not the thing to say. Then or ever.

"I thought not." He stopped walking and turned his face to the sky. After a minute that seemed to last forever, he turned to look at her. In the same thoughtful, detached tone as before, he said, "I think maybe I'd better catch the next flight out. You mind if I take a week to pack and find a place to crash?"

"Keep the apartment," she said. It was an impulse, but knowing what she knew about the next year, it was the right one.

He gave her a startled look. "What?"

"Keep the apartment. I've got less to move than you do and I'm in a better position to apartment hunt. Really, it's fine."

"How about we wait a week to make any big decisions like who gets what?"

"Deal," she said.

She wondered what would happen in a week that would make her stay in Virginia.

* * *

After more time on the phone than should have been remotely reasonable, she found John a nine o'clock flight.

He went upstairs to pack.

Sarah didn't join him. Maybe a good ex would have, but they'd only planned on staying until Monday. He hadn't brought much. He didn't actually need her. It was more likely he needed space.

She needed her own space. Her father would leave in the morning. Jareth would spend more time here at the house, stepping into her father's role. And she was expected to play "mother" alongside him. Part of her wondered what the hell that even meant. The rest of her suspected that it knew, and shuddered.

Problem was, she wasn't entirely revolted by the idea. Angry at being maneuvered by an eight year old. Exasperated and a touch irritated that Jareth was re-writing reality. Infuriated that their parents were, what, not good enough for Toby? Both seething and distraught that she was going to have to give up her first shot at a career that she was sure she would love. But beneath all the other feelings, she couldn't seem to summon disgust.

So she sat on the couch with a cup of tea and thought, and watched the drama unfold. Beneath the anger, she felt strangely numb.

After a little while, Toby emerged triumphantly from the dining room, newspaper in hand. "Jurassic Park!"

"No," her father said.

"But it just came out Friday. It's about _dinosaurs_!"

"Well, if it's about _dinosaurs_," her father grumbled.

"And it's the boy toy at McDonald's!"

Her father sighed and relented. It was about dinosaurs and was a happy meal toy. The MPAA must just expect young children to be scared of T-Rexes or something.

She and John waved goodbye to her father, Toby, and Jareth. The door closed behind them, and John went to go get his bag. Irene hugged John goodbye, sparking a sudden jolt of fear. What was going to happen to Irene that would make her take a back seat to Sarah?  
She didn't say anything about it, just walked John to the car for their trip.

The daylight was already fading into dusk as they made their way through town. Sarah kept her eyes on the road, absently noting the first few stars beginning to shine. Telephone poles streamed by out the window, stark black against the sky. They looked both lonely and connected, like they were all tied up to the wrong partners.

When they'd driven halfway to the airport, John said, "I'm sorry."

"It's not like it's your fault," she said. "It's not anybody's fault. We're just better as friends."

He said, "Right." His tone implied he didn't quite believe her. But he didn't push. Of course he didn't.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. Sarah thought more about Toby's stupid wish, mulling it over and circling around it until they reached Woodrum Field. A long line of cars snaked along the road in front of them, even on a Sunday at seven-thirty. Sarah suspected it was a rule of the the universe that any airport with flights to major cities was always crowded.

She parked. John grabbed his bag out of the trunk and gave her a rueful smile. She could see something shadowing in his gray eyes, but he didn't say anything. So she let it rest. No need to go raising ghosts when the relationship had ended so amicably.

She saw him through to the concourse, gave him a hug — and drove home.

The sky had gone full dark by the time she pulled up the driveway. The stars looked like tiny pinpricks of silver; tonight, at least, she could understand the ancient belief that the world beyond the world was made of light, and the stars were holes in the firmament.

The garage was open; her father's car was there. Jareth's entirely illusory car was entirely illusorily parked in an out-of-the-way spot. Sarah spared a moment to wonder what pretense he'd found to stay the night.

But it was Irene — not her father, not Jareth — who met her in the foyer.

Irene took one look at her and asked, "What happened?"

"John and I broke up," Sarah said.

Irene nodded. "I thought you might. Do you want to talk about it?"

Sarah felt the brittle shell of trying not to care at the enormity of what lay before her crumple.

They headed to the kitchen, where Irene made tea and Merlin pressed his nose inquisitively against Sarah's knees. Sarah took the tea, sat down at the breakfast nook, and surprised herself by not crying at all.

* * *

ObRef to Terry Pratchett's _Night Watch_ in here very close to the beginning.

I don't actually remember enough of 1993 to remember if Jurassic Park had a McDonald's Happy Meal Toy (I had eyes only for Batman), but I know the movie was marketed extensively to children. Which may explain a lot about 90's kids, come to think of it.

The locations and implied dates used in this story are correct, so clever readers can not only figure out the general area in which this fic is set, but the exact date on which the action starts.


End file.
